It didn’t help much.
Everything still buzzed.
He stared at the ground. It looked the sa. But his perception of it didn’t.
"The stance you use when channeling?" Rathan said casually. "You lean your front shoulder too far forward. It’s going to ruin your rotation on wide spells."
rlin blinked.
"...You saw that?"
"I felt that. You carry your weight like a guy who’s afraid of recoil."
rlin squinted at him. "That’s oddly specific."
"I trained in twelve different styles. I know bad habits when I see them."
rlin looked down at his hand. He flexed it. Then ford a seal he didn’t rember learning.
The glow sparked instantly.
He dropped it fast.
"Don’t use it here," Rathan said. "The mory’s already unstable. If you force too much mana through this space, you’ll collapse the transfer."
rlin’s brow creased. "I thought this was all just... mory. Recorded. Safe."
"Nothing’s safe when a god curses you," Rathan said. "mory is only as stable as the mind holding it."
rlin stared at him for a long second.
"Was it worth it?" he asked. "Everything you did?"
Rathan didn’t answer right away.
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of his jaw. Slow. Tired.
"...So days."
"That’s not very reassuring."
"I’m not here to reassure you."
Silence.
The air still humd faintly with whatever arcane bleed hadn’t faded yet.
rlin finally asked, "What was it like? Killing them?"
Rathan’s face didn’t change. His tone didn’t lift or drop.
"It wasn’t satisfying," he said. "It just stopped being quiet afterward."
rlin studied him.
’He’s not proud of it. He’s not even angry now. He’s just tired. Like the rage didn’t even leave sothing behind.’
"You regret it?"
"Not all of it," Rathan said. "Just the parts that didn’t help."
rlin looked down again.
Let the silence stretch.
The knowledge sat inside him like a second skeleton. Familiar. But not his. Not yet.
"You’ll figure it out," Rathan said.
"How do you know?"
"Because if you couldn’t, the mory would’ve killed you already."
—
rlin leaned back on his hands, the ground still strange under his fingers. Not dirt. Not stone. Just mory, pretending to be solid.
Across from him, Rathan stared into nothing. His eyes had a far-off look that didn’t quite land on anything in the room. Like he was watching sothing that used to be there.
rlin spoke first. "Why ?"
Rathan didn’t glance over. "Because you’re stubborn."
"That’s not a good reason."
"It’s the only kind that lasts."
rlin rolled his eyes. "I’m serious."
"So am I."
He waited a beat, expecting sothing else. A longer answer. A point, maybe. But Rathan didn’t add anything.
’Fine,’ rlin thought. ’So I’m the stubborn one. Great.’
He dragged a hand down his face. He could still feel the mana patterns etched under his skin. Not painful, just there. Present. Like a second pulse.
"You know I’m not you, right?" rlin said. "I’m not going to beco so—vengeful war machine."
"You’re not supposed to."
rlin frowned. "Then why give all of this?"
Rathan turned toward him now, more focused than before.
"Because you’re the one that won’t let it rot."
That stopped rlin. He blinked once. "What?"
"I carried it. All of it. The pain. The betrayal. The useless rage. And it festered. It turned into soone I couldn’t walk away from. Soone I didn’t like."
rlin didn’t reply.
"You’re not that," Rathan continued. "You’re not built like . You’re not going to burn the world just because it hurts."
rlin almost laughed. "You sure about that?"
Rathan’s expression shifted. "Yeah. I watched."
’Great,’ rlin thought. ’So the ghost of a dead ancestor’s been creepily evaluating from the afterlife. That’s... normal.’
Rathan reached into the pocket of his coat. Pulled sothing out. Held it in his closed fist for a second before tossing it lightly through the air.
rlin caught it without thinking.
It was a ring.
Plain. Steel. Unmarked.
He turned it over in his palm. "What’s this?"
"Sothing to remind you that the power isn’t the point."
rlin stared at it. Then slid it onto his index finger. It fit.
"Thanks," he said, quieter than before.
"You’ll need it."
There was a pause.
A long one.
The kind that didn’t hang heavy. Just... settled.
rlin let out a slow breath, staring at the place Rathan had been just days ago, years ago, centuries maybe. It didn’t matter. Ti didn’t work right in places like this.
"So this is it?" he asked. "You fade away now and I go on being your walking archive?"
Rathan’s smile was faint, crooked. "You’ll be more than that."
"Yeah?" rlin said. "How do you know?"
Rathan stood.
"I don’t."
The mory began to ripple. Not violently. Just... releasing.
rlin felt the ground softening beneath him. The air pulling away from his skin. His heartbeat sharpening into sothing more familiar.
Rathan stepped backward into the blur.
"You’re not ," he said again. "And that’s the only reason this’ll work."
And then he was gone.
The space around rlin folded in.
One last thought surfaced in rlin’s head as the world started to collapse around him.
’Gods, I hope he’s right.’
Then—
Light. Movent. Pain.
The mory ended.
And he ca back.
—
rlin’s eyes opened like soone had yanked a curtain off a window. Too fast. Too sharp. Light scraped across the back of his skull.
He didn’t sit up. Not yet. His chest still felt like it was on delay. Like it hadn’t gotten the mo that he was supposed to be breathing again.
The room slled like polished marble and sothing herbal, sharp, like dried mint and crushed sage. The light was gold. Not the fake kind. Sunlight, filtered through sothing ornate.
He blinked once, slowly, letting the space co into focus.
A wide room. Circular. No visible door. And seated across from him—
"Hers," rlin said, voice flat.
The god didn’t look up from the teacup in his hand. "Welco back."
’Of course it’s tea,’ rlin thought. ’I almost die and he’s having a tea ceremony.’
He sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand. "So. You saw all that?"
"Obviously."
"You were watching?"
"I’m a god, rlin. I don’t miss the important parts."
rlin exhaled, dragging in the faint mint-slling air. It felt clean, but not real. Like a set dressing in a play that didn’t need an audience anymore.
"So what now?" he asked.
Hers finally looked at him. His expression was unreadable in the sa way a locked box is unreadable: polished, sealed, but humming with contents.
"I figured you might need a minute," he said.
"Too late for that," rlin muttered. He leaned back, letting his head thud softly against the padded wall behind him. "How long was I gone?"
"In your world? A few minutes."
rlin raised an eyebrow.
"In mory ti?" Hers added. "Too long."
He didn’t ask how Hers knew that. He just stared at the cup in the god’s hand.
"What’s in that?" he asked.
"Tea."
"You’re not going to offer any?"
"You’re technically still dead. Your tastebuds might rebel."
rlin snorted. Then winced. His ribs still felt like they were holding onto the echo of screams that hadn’t been his.
"Rathan was..." he started, then let the words hang.
Hers tilted his head. "A bit much?"
"I was going to say ’a walking pressure cooker of unresolved rage and trauma,’ but sure. A bit much works."
Hers took a slow sip. "You handled it better than I expected."
"That makes one of us."
A silence crept between them, not uncomfortable. Just... full. Like neither of them was quite ready to push yet.
rlin broke it. "He gave everything."
"I know."
"All of it."
Hers nodded.
"He killed gods."
Another nod.
"I have his mories. His knowledge. His... sothing."
"His grief," Hers said. "That, too."
rlin looked at the ceiling. It was painted, but the patterns didn’t make sense. Not celestial. Not symbolic. Just motion.
"You’re not going to lecture about what I do with it?" he asked.
"I’m not your handler, rlin."
"You’re literally my patron."
Hers shrugged. "I gave you my mark. Doesn’t an I tell you how to use what soone else handed you."
rlin scratched the side of his jaw. It still felt like it wasn’t quite his. Like he hadn’t fully landed in his body yet.
"So what do you want from ?" he asked. "Why did you pick ? What was the point of any of this?"
Hers didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair, resting the cup on the armrest. His smile wasn’t quite there, but the corners of his mouth knew the shape of it.
"You ask a lot of questions for soone who just got handed the mories of a demigod war criminal."
"I am that soone," rlin said. "Wouldn’t you?"
Hers looked at him, long. asured. Like he was checking if rlin had grown teeth while he wasn’t looking.
Then he said, "I didn’t pick you because you were special."
rlin blinked.
"I picked you because you were ordinary," Hers continued. "The others—they wanted chosen ones. I wanted soone who could survive disappointnt."
rlin exhaled. "’Thanks.’ That’s very flattering."
"It’s also true."
Silence again.
Then rlin asked, quieter, "And now that I’ve got Rathan in my head? What happens?"
Hers raised an eyebrow. "What do you think happens?"
"I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking the god in the room."
"You’re not possessed," Hers said. "You’re a bearer. You carry a record. That’s all."
rlin’s fingers curled in his lap. "Yeah. It just feels like more than that."
"It is more. But it’s yours now. You don’t have to be him. You just have to learn from him."
’Great,’ rlin thought. ’So I’m an unwilling walking textbook of generational trauma and divine betrayal. Aweso.’
"Is he really gone?" he asked.
Hers didn’t answer right away.
Then: "He passed it on."
"That’s not the sa."
"No," Hers said. "It isn’t."
rlin didn’t look up. He stared at his own hands instead.
’I don’t know if I can carry this. But I already said I would. So it’s mine now. Doesn’t matter how heavy it gets.’
Hers stood.
"You’ll have to leave this place soon," he said. "They’re waiting."
"Yeah," rlin muttered. "I figured."
Hers started to turn away. Then stopped.
"rlin."
"What?"
"You didn’t break."
rlin looked up at him.
"Plenty would have," Hers said. "But you didn’t."
Then he stepped back.
And the light started to shift again.
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